


Burning Time

by Cuda (Scylla)



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Supernatural, Superwho - Fandom, Superwood - Fandom, Torchwood
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Harkstiel, M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 22:51:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2709602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scylla/pseuds/Cuda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the Harkstiel Holiday Advent. In keeping up with old Torchwood rituals, Gwen Cooper finds herself in the company of Jack's new associate, Castiel. She's not sure the jury's completely in on this bloke, but he's got a kind face and is more than a bit of all right. Furthermore, he wants to talk about the one thing Gwen's been starving to share.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning Time

**Author's Note:**

> "The Burning of the Clocks" is a real tradition in Brighton, although it's a fairly recent celebration, having started in 1993. [Read more about it here.](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burning_the_Clocks)

In the soft lantern glow of Brighton & Hove, Gwen wouldn't admit out loud that Jack and Castiel made a handsome pair - but no sense in denying a good long look anyhow. It still wasn't quite gelled in her mind that the man so close to Jack's side wasn't… wasn't Ianto, but Castiel was a nice lad, and very keen to make a good impression. Gwen knew that he wasn't quite all human, but given Jack's peccadilloes, it didn't bother her half as much as the sense she'd been replaced.

Gwen bounced Anwen higher on her hip, readjusting her daughter's weight to give her arms a rest. They'd been on the walk for a few minutes when Anwen's toddler legs gave out. She fussed and fretted in Gwen's arms, while Rhys held aloft their handmade paper lantern on its pole. Raucous drums and dancers draped in strings of lights whirled around them. Castiel walked on Gwen's other side, separating her from Jack. He was watching Anwen's gyrations with concern. Right, Gwen thought ferociously at him, behold the rubbish mum. Your little ones are probably perfectly behaved from the minute they hatch, and your mothers are serene as swans.

Castiel caught her looking, and from his confused expression, she worried she'd spoken aloud. He turned away a moment later, however, and Gwen grumped at her own relief.

"Here, love," Rhys leaned in to murmur, "I'll take a turn. You can carry our Star of the Orient a bit." Gwen turned to catch Rhys's sympathetic smile. She must have looked a fright, as she felt the muscles in her face softening in return. She looked down at Anwen and cast a wry smile at Rhys. "It does fuss a bit less, yeah?"

"Least half as much," Rhys replied sturdily, and held out his lantern for the transfer. She gave Anwen up to him gratefully, her stiff arms tweaking as she stretched them from their permanent curl around the baby's weight.

"Only a few more minutes to the pier," Jack said encouragingly. Beyond the pier was Brighton Beach, where a great bonfire waited to claim their paper lanterns. Gwen tried not to think about the futility of the whole thing, and dredge up instead a bit of the wonder she'd felt that encouraged this three-hour drive from Swansea. Jack held the other lantern, bobbing and waving it with the enthusiasm of a ten year old. He always did. Before the baby, Gwen would have been right there alongside him, giggling like a teenager as the round glowing baubles bumped into one another. Now she was someone's mum, and a nap sounded more appealing than this tradition.

The whole thing crumbled into a hollow mockery, right before her eyes. Explosions in Cardiff, the 4-5-6 and Miracle Day come and gone, and people still doing things like pitching lanterns into a bleeding fire to celebrate the Solstice. The triumph of light over dark? Right. Tell that to Ianto Jones and Esther Drummond. It was all too bright, too fast, and Gwen was drowning in it. She wanted a wall to press her back against. To have a cry. To hold her little girl tight, and thank her stars, and curse and howl.

"Gwen?" Castiel asked, pitched to just carry over the chaos around her. Gwen jumped. The lantern fell from her fingers, but he caught it before it did more than swoop down. He held it out to her, not a step missed. His eyes were earnest and large, filled with points of lantern light like stars.

"Thanks," Gwen muttered, taking back the lantern pole, "what is it?"

"You're troubled," he said, "I know it's… out of line, but I'd like to help."

Gwen faced front, tucking a chunk of hair nervously behind her ear. "Oh, no. I'm fine. Just startled, is all. But thank you."

From her peripheral vision, she could see Castiel still looking her way, as if he wanted to say something more. She held out, and eventually he turned his attention back to the path. They went on walking, until Anwen's fussing faded and she collapsed against Rhys's shoulder. Until they reached the pier, and the bright blaze waiting to consume their lanterns' painted clock faces, as it consumed all the others. Gwen had become almost achingly aware of Castiel's presence, by the time they stopped. She couldn't ignore him. The tentative offer he made haunted her, like a life preserver she'd been too proud to grab.

The crowd settled around them, smoothing ruffled feathers into place with the murmuring of discontented geese. Gwen found herself once more beside Castiel. They were a step or two back from Jack and Rhys, who - like a pair of enemy soldiers at a cease-fire - took turns entertaining Anwen. Gwen couldn't smile. She should have wanted to join them, and didn't. She wanted Anwen safe, and she'd throw herself on a landmine to protect her, but this bit was just beyond her. Anwen would grow up damaged, because Gwen was more mastiff than mum.

"Gwen," Castiel said again, and this time Gwen didn't jump. She looked sideways at him, to see his hand just a breath from her shoulder, stopped short. "May I?" he asked.

It took Gwen a moment to parse what he was asking, but after a moment of are-you-serious staring, she nodded. The warmth of his hand bled through her jacket, and she tried to batter off the comfort that came with it.

Castiel tipped his head at her. "This is awkward," he observed.

"Right?" Gwen agreed on a laugh, "You do get points though, I'll warrant you that."

"I wanted to say thank you, Gwen. For the welcome. I'm an intruder."

Gwen felt even guiltier than usual for her crummy, uncharitable thoughts. "God, no, Castiel, you're no intruder. No more than Jack, anyway. At least trouble doesn't seem to follow you the way it does him," she nodded to his silhouette, large and black against the bonfire, "truth be told, I don't even like him holding her. Afraid something bad'll happen. Like he'll pop into bits any minute."

"That's understandable," Castiel smiled, "he… 'pops into bits' on a regular basis."

Gwen smiled, then ducked her head at a rush of giggles. She stepped a little sideways into Castiel, maybe because this was usually the point where Ianto had an arm around her, and Castiel didn't seem to mind obliging. It had been a long time since someone other than Rhys wrapped Gwen up like this. Castiel was warm, warmer than she'd have expected on a night like this. "I'm just being maudlin," she sighed, "an idiot. People who've gone, we can't bring them back, can we? I've people I miss - people I used to do the Burning of the Clocks with. I'm one of them. I'm not the girl I was, back before Anwen was born."

Castiel didn't answer, but he'd gone still beside her. Gwen felt guilty all over again. "Sorry," she said quickly, stepping out from beneath Castiel's arm, "look, forget it. Let's get the boys a tea before they freeze, yeah?" She turned back, and he was staring at her. Hungrily intent as a gull, as if she held something he craved.

"I'd like to know more about them," Castiel said, stepping out now to join her, "and you, of course."

Gwen didn't know what to do with the request, anymore than the arm he offered her after they excused themselves from Rhys and Jack. They walked together in more or less amicable silence, skirting the crowd until there was only the sea at their left. Fireworks popped overhead, reflections shattered on the waves.

"He hasn't told you much, then, has he?" Gwen asked, as the noise of the crowd faded.

"Not about Ianto," Castiel replied, "it feels - a little disingenuous to ask you."

"It's not," Gwen replied quickly, maybe a bit too eagerly, "Ianto was my friend, too. And there's nobody to talk to in the bleeding back of beyond. Nobody but Rhys, and he'd rather forget the whole thing."

"I'd be honored to listen," Castiel said, with a touch of the same eagerness, and Gwen felt better. They marched on, moving with a bit more purpose towards the vendors selling foam cups of tea, sugary donuts and caramel-drizzled popcorn. Sweet smells drifted towards them, pushing off the salt-fish tang of the ocean behind. Gwen looked back at the bonfire, and thought about where to begin.

"He always made our lanterns," Gwen said at last, reaching out to the old memory slowly, "he and Tosh. They come in kits, you see, and he had a knack for bending the sticks. Not me, but I chipped in to paint. For someone who worked at Torchwood, he had gentle hands."

Castiel's free hand tucked over Gwen's fingers, folding them more tightly into his elbow. The gesture was familiar, and Gwen wondered if he'd been taught by Jack. The way Castiel seemed to become the listening silence, however, was a skill of his own.

"Why did you make this trip a tradition?" Castiel asked. The question pushed the dust away from another memory, one that startled Gwen into laughter.

"Oh, aliens, what else?" She tossed her head back. "They were attracted to the ritual, or some such. Jack stormed in that morning with three lantern kits and—"


End file.
